Mind Games
by steepedinshadows419
Summary: AU - When Iris digs too deep into Amunet Black's underground drug dealing, the results are devastating; memory loss being the first. Barry/Iris. Multi-Chap.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This fic is based off **theflashaus** ' story of the same name located in photoset form on instagram. The creator has very kindly let me write my own fic adaptation for it, which I hope those of you who have read the story will still be able to enjoy. Those who are new to it, I encourage you to read it in both places! I plan to keep everything in the original version in tact here. I am just extending scenes and adding my own dynamic and content, but hopefully it'll all flow together as if it was part of the story from the beginning and just wasn't shown. Enjoy!

 ***** many thanks to **sendtherain** for beta'ing.

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

( **side note to regular readers:** I know this is a new story, and I promised I wouldn't start any new multis after positing OAW. But I'd been planning to do this for months and finally got it all sorted out, so hopefully you won't mind if this is the fic I update side-by-side with FS till it's finished. Also, there are several things in this fic that are different from the show. I will mention these facts as they are necessary to know throughout the story. First and foremost you should know that the Reverb in this story is not an E2 Cisco. It is somewhat else entirely and will be revealed later.)

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 **Chapter 1 -**

A splattering of supplies over dented metal tables and piled on the floor in a dark, dingy corner. An unbalanced coat rack for his sweeping leather jacket that resembled more of a cape than a coat. A half-decent bathroom he could barely fit into on the far side of the room. A dirty floor. Bare walls. And a mirror. No one else but him on the whole floor and only occasionally a couple other people in the entire building.

He'd asked for sanitation, more light, updated supplies, and time.

 _"Time is of the essence, Roberto."_

 _"Reverb."_

 _"You're an engineer now, not a gangster. I'll call you by the name you were born with or I'll come up with something else if I feel so inclined. And since I pulled you off the streets before the cops arrested you, I think you'll be more than happy to let me call you whatever I wish."_

 _He was silent for a while, then, "I need more time."_

 _She sighed testily and approached him. "You've been here almost a full month, Roberto. I've given you a workspace and all the supplies that were available to me. I've given you food, which you hardly touch, clothing, which you scoff at refuse to wear, and a bathroom that you've yet to shower in."_

 _He looked up at her and glared. "The water's brown."_

 _She smiled brightly. "Well, we can't all work in first-class establishments, can we?"_

 _He said nothing._

 _"I gave you a bed as well. In the corner of the room, see?"_

 _He didn't turn to look at the makeshift cot with the flat pillow and torn blanket._

 _"I could go faster if I had updated supplies and more light."_

 _"I've given you what I can, Roberto. I expect you to give me what I want in exchange or I'll throw you back onto the streets where you came from."_

 _"I was doing just fine on the streets."_

 _"You were on the verge of war and your men were changing sides with the police on your doorstep. Your street smarts won't save you if you end up there again. You'll be dead within the day."_

 _He bit his tongue to keep from spouting words he'd later regret._

 _"But before you so carelessly tossed your life away, you were thriving as a mechanical engineer."_

 _"In training."_

 _She ignored that. "It was a skill that you should've probably built on instead. Just look how useful it's proving to you now."_

 _His eyebrows narrowed._

 _"Two weeks," she said brightly, patting him on the shoulder. "Two weeks and this machine better be up and thriving and simple to use."_

 _"I can't-"_

 _"You can, and you will, or I will deliver on my promise to hand you over to your competitor…should I ever happen to run across you."_

 _He didn't say anything as she left the room, bitterness and questions thrumming through him. Grudgingly, he got back to work._

Now, a week later he was still buzzing with hatred for his new employer. Everything in him wanted to refuse to work any further. The time limit she had proposed felt impossible. This machine she demanded be built should be done in a clean facility with all the necessary tools at hand, not this third-rate establishment. He had made progress with what she had given him, but not enough. Not nearly enough to be finished on time.

Amunet Black already profited from dealing illegal drugs in the underground world she'd pulled him from. He didn't understand how the machine she wanted built could possibly be directly aligned with it. He would not be making multiple of these machines for her to add to the inventory. She had plenty of henchman to do her dirty work for her, and they rarely turned on her. As far as he knew only one of the henchmen – henchwomen, rather – had attempted that and managed to escape with their life. He always wondered why Amunet hadn't gone after her. It wasn't like she wasn't quality. She was of the highest. But from what he knew…she'd never been seen again.

His annoyance aside, there was one benefit to being tasked with this chore for Amunet. He knew where he stood. He was under her protection as long as he was of value to her. When he finished it…

"Knock, knock."

He blinked, his mind refocusing as he registered the feminine form coming from the doorway. He looked over his shoulder, rolled his eyes and returned to his work.

"What a warm welcome you give me," the pale-skinned woman decked out in blue chuckled as she walked into the room, skimming her fingers along the edges of anything she walked past on her way to him, a pretty frost decorating objects as she touched them.

"What do you want, Frost? I'm busy."

Her heels clicked as she walked around him and pouted.

"Too busy for me?"

" _Always_ too busy for you."

"That's too bad, because I-"

He caught her hand as it reached to run down his lapels. Shock shot across her face briefly but was quickly replaced by a sly smile.

"I said I'm busy."

He released her hand and resumed his work.

"You still have a week left," she informed him, at which he scoffed.

"A week," he muttered under his breath.

"I can get you more," she offered casually.

His hands slowed their work, but he refused to give her his full attention.

"And better supplies."

His hands stilled.

"More light."

He lifted his head, his eyes narrowing in on her.

"And how would you manage that?"

"With a better room in a sanitary building."

He waited a beat too long before saying, "You're lying."

She shrugged. "If you say so."

The tapping of her blue-and-silver-painted fingernails on the metal surface nearly had him flipping the table over at her. But also, he was curious.

"You can get me a sanitary room with up-to-date technology, good lighting and more time to finish?"

"Yep."

The pop of her lips emphasized her shimmering lipstick.

"How?"

"You're just going to have to trust me about that one, darling."

He stared head-on at her for a while – until she cracked.

"Well? Do you want my help or not?"

"What do you get out of it?"

"Can't a girl help out an old friend?"

"We are not-"

"There's a new drug on the market."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"A new drug. It's gonna blow everyone's minds and load up Amunet's pockets with more money than she could possibly dream of."

His mouth fell open before he could stop it.

"Amunet has it?"

She chuckled. "Of course not. I don't even have it yet."

He glared again. "So, you have nothing."

"Not yet. But I'll get it. Don't you worry. And when I do, it'll conveniently fall right into Amunet's hands. She won't be able to resist offering me a partnership in the deal."

"You're already her top henchman." She glared. "Hench _woman_ ," he corrected, but she didn't seem to like that term much either. "Why are you doing favors for her?"

Her face relaxed into an easy, all-knowing smile.

"This isn't for her. This is for me." He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off by continuing, "And that's all I'm going to say about that." He pursed his lips. "Do we have a deal?"

"What deal? All you're doing is giving me a gift for reasons I have yet to figure out."

"I give you what you want, you give me what I want. Later. Down the line." She waited a bit and then batted her eyelashes, smiling prettily. "Promise?"

He ran through all the scenarios but couldn't seem to find a reason to say no.

"How much time will you get me?" he asked.

Her pearly whites shown brightly at him. "As much time as you want, Reverb."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Introducing Barry and Iris this chapter! I hope you'll be intrigued going forward if you were all 'where are westallen?' last chap. lol. Next chap I should FINALLY be getting to the content from the original insta story. Also, I'm upping the rating of this fic to M, since there is a smut scene in this chap (first scene, fyi) and prob will be at least a couple more at some point throughout. Plus, later on it'll get somewhat violent in the second half of the story, so I thought it was appropriate.

 ***** Many thanks to **sendtherain** for beta'ing. :D

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

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 **Chapter 2 -**

Iris West-Allen was not a morning person.

After a shower, a cup of coffee, and a kiss from her husband – then absolutely, yes. But in those first moments when rays of sunlight shone through the window or the buzzing or obnoxious noise coming from her phone signaled an alarm going off? Nope, not one bit. Iris West-Allen loved her sleep.

Today was no different.

So, when the warmth of the sun stretched across her uncovered skin and the seconds ticked away until she knew her alarm was imminent, Iris begged the world to turn back time another hour. Just one hour extra of sleep to stay cuddled against her husband in their very warm bed.

As was often the case however, she knew that the closer to her alarm going off time went, the more difficult it was to fall back asleep when her consciousness was already starting to wake up. Reluctantly, with a resigned sigh, Iris reached across her side of the bed to her phone that was no doubt seconds from alerting her to the morning. Before she reached it though, a longer, warm arm stretching across hers reached the phone instead. Without even opening his eyes, her husband turned off the alarm.

She smiled to herself and murmured a "thanks," followed by a pleasant shiver rippling up and down her spine when Barry Allen pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, sweeping her dark tresses aside with his nose. His arm tightened around her waist, but she had little time to enjoy the comfort of the embrace before shock zipped through her at the hard length that pushed up against her ass.

She gasped quietly.

"Morning wood," he whispered into her hair.

There wasn't a single hint of seduction, and somehow that made him even more desirable. It turned her on immediately – the knowledge that his body reacted to her so instantaneously despite him not deliberately thinking about sex first thing in the morning.

She licked her lips and thought about what to do next. This could go one of two ways. Either she could just attempt to ignore the very blatant hint of her husband's arousal pressed between them and go back to sleep for a little while longer – or she could use the evidence as cause to pursue something hot and steamy before getting ready for work.

She loved sleep a lot, so that first option definitely appealed to her, but also…

She wriggled her butt a little against him. She heard his breathing hitch and smiled smugly to herself. A moment later his breathing returned to normal, and so she figured he thought he'd imagined it or that it hadn't been deliberate. So, she did it again, this time a little more forcefully. And just in case he hadn't taken the hint, she lifted his hand, previously covering her clothed stomach, to cup one lacy-covered breast.

" _Iris_ ," he hissed in her ear, groaning as his head fell to her shoulder.

His hand squeezed her breast and deftly lowered the top of her nightie, so he could cup a mound full of flesh.

Iris licked her lips and reached behind her, grabbing his dick in her hands and gripping it tightly. In response, Barry lifted his hand to her jaw and turned her face so he could lock their lips in a passionate kiss. Once accomplished, he lowered his hand down her body till his fingers dipped inside her panties and into her moist core, evoking a moan out of her when he found her erect clit.

" _Barry_."

She broke her mouth free of his, pumping his dick faster as his lips latched onto her neck and began to kiss their way down to the top of her back.

Iris would have no more of it though. She turned completely in his arms and pushed him all the way onto his back, straddling him.

"You smug bastard," she teased, looking down at him as he grinned up at her.

"Me?" he asked innocently, smoothing his hands over her hips and lower back.

"Yes, you."

"I'm not the one who turned down a few extra minutes of sleep for morning sex."

"We're not having sex yet," she pointed out.

His eyes turned dark and devious, and she knew she was going to _love_ what happened next. In a heartbeat she was on her back and they were both naked. She loved how he hovered over her, a mixture of lust and love in his eyes just before he lowered his lips to kiss hers. He proceeded to trail sweet, sensuous kisses down her body until he was at her core, lapping at her juices.

She moaned loudly, arching up against him to the point he had to hold her thighs firmly in place.

"We can't do this all day, Barry," she half-heartedly protested. "I have to get…get ready for work." She gasped and cried out when he vibrated his tongue against her clit, pushing her over the edge.

Breathing heavily, she was only half aware that he was hovering over her again, waiting until she met his eyes. He waited a few beats, his hands clenching in the sheets on either side of her. He was so ready. She glanced down at his thick cock and then back into his smoldering green eyes.

"Yeah?" he rasped.

She nodded, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a steamy, tongue-twisting kiss. She bit his bottom lip and tugged gently before releasing him a moment later.

"Yeah," she whispered, nearly shrieking the tail end of the word as he thrust into her.

He retreated almost entirely and then thrust again, repeating the motion, speeding up quickly, until he was going so fast she was just short of telling him to slow down. But she couldn't. It felt so good.

"Oh, my God, Barry," she moaned, her nails digging into his back as she held on for dear life. His back was so slick with sweat she almost didn't succeed.

"Fuck, Iris," he barked, nipping at her neck when he briefly slowed to savor the feel of her.

Their eyes met, then one, two, three, deep thrusts and he pulled out to cum on her belly – the stark contrast of light against dark satisfying them both beyond belief.

Iris sighed contently, running her fingers through his damp hair.

"I almost want to say we should always wake up this way, but then you'd get used to it."

Barry lifted his head to meet her eyes and smiled tenderly at her before lowering his body beside her and tracing the lines of her arms and full figure with his fingertips.

"I'll never get used to you, Iris West-Allen."

She smiled back at him, her heart bursting with joy.

"I love you, Barry Allen."

He closed the distance between them with an eskimo kiss and then a real one.

"I love you, too."

…

A dingy basement wasn't the most ravishing view to dwell in day in and day out, but Amunet Black was not about to complain. She liked the damp atmosphere, the feeling of toxicity that anyone who entered her lair felt the moment they walked in. She didn't need a first-rate establishment. She had the top drug on the market. Her business was booming, and aside from one problematic reporter by the name of Iris West-Allen, she was in no danger of being uncovered.

She sat at a metal desk on the far side of the room, tapping her long decorative fingernails against the surface, contemplating her situation. If she could just get that little problem out of the way she could more fully focus on the success of her business. She could actually enjoy herself. And when the low life, _Reverb_ – she rolled her eyes at the name – had finished her machine, she would be unstoppable.

"Edgar," she called out without looking up from the neat pile of tiny Ziploc bags filled with drugs sitting on the table.

A solidly built man stepped into the doorway from the outside hall. She glanced up at him when he responded with little more than an attempted intimidating stare and an ugly grunt.

"Come here," she said firmly with the type of sour sweetness she so excelled at.

He walked into the room and stopped a few feet away from her.

"This…Iris West-Allen…" She paused and looked up at him. "Would you consider her a threat?"

He didn't appear to comprehend. This was, she realized, the problem with not hiring smart hit men. Then again, she didn't want to risk someone outsmarting _her_ – a rarity – and making the grave mistake of trying to overtake her organization; or maybe worse, outright leaving. She thought about the feisty brunette she'd taken under her wing that had attempted the former and brazenly succeeded at the latter.

"No, of course you wouldn't," she answered herself, picking up the packets of drugs and plopping them down in a new pile. "I don't consider her much of a threat myself…yet. But she is a reporter, and a very good one, I regret to admit. If she keeps going, she could find something vital to our organization and exploit it. We certainly can't have that. Not when I'm so close to having my empire expand so magnificently."

She beamed just thinking of the chaos she would unload to her competitors. No one would rival her expertise or the blind devotion she so readily obtained from her closest henchmen.

Finally, she looked up at the still silent Edgar who stood before her.

"Edgar."

"Yes, Amunet?"

"I would like you to send a message to our eager little reporter friend."

"A message?" he asked, his expression changing for the first time into one of confusion. He no doubt had expected orders to kill or at least kidnap.

"Yes." She smiled pleasantly. "I will write a short note, and you will deliver it. If it doesn't scare her off, then we will take more…forceful measures."

He nodded. "I will wait for you to finish it." He turned to walk back towards the hall.

"Oh, no need. This will be quick."

She pulled out a squeaky drawer in the desk she sat at and retrieved a small notepad and pen. In under thirty seconds she'd decided what she wanted to say and quite exquisitely written it and folded the piece of paper, handing it over to him.

"Be discreet," she said. "Nothing must lead back to us."

He nodded gruffly and was nearly out the door when she called out to him again.

"Take Penny with you," she advised.

He looked over his shoulder in question.

"She looks the part of an office girl. Have her slip into an appropriate uniform and make the drop-off."

He turned back around and headed out, but Amunet didn't need to worry that he wouldn't follow her orders. The benefit to her dumb muscle was that they excelled at two things – successfully injuring or killing the intended target and always, _always_ following her orders.

…

The office was buzzing as usual with all the run-of-the-mill journalism going on. There was nothing out of the ordinary – research, phone calls, pestering the boss, pestering co-workers, complaining about assignments, taking extra long lunches… but Iris was stuck in a perpetual grin. She didn't even realize the smile was so plastered to her face until her sports reporter friend, Linda, popped on over to her desk, propping her hip against it.

"Hey, what's gotten into you?"

Iris blinked and looked up at her, aware for the first time that the open document on her computer was completely blank and had been for the last hour.

"What?"

"Well." Linda sat on the corner of her desk and crossed one knee over the other. "I wouldn't want to be accused of wasting my day analyzing your odd behavior. But…you've been smiling all day and you only had one cup of coffee. "Spill."

Iris laughed and shook her head.

"I just…love my husband."

Linda raised her eyebrows. "What'd he do this time? Give you lunch money?"

Iris shook her head, now attempting to fight the smile but still failing.

"I didn't see him come in today, so he couldn't have taken you out for lunch."

"No, he didn't. I ate at my desk."

"I know. I was with you."

She blinked, her brows briefly furrowing. "Oh. Right."

Now Linda laughed. "Girl, you're glowing. What's up with you?"

She shrugged and twisted a dark curl around her finger.

"My husband's good to me, what can I say?"

Linda rolled her eyes.

"I know you guys absolutely refuse to leave the honeymoon phase-"

"It's not a phase for us," she defended. "We're genuinely in love."

"All right, Disney. So, tell me what the doting husband did for you today?"

"Actually, I think it's something I did…or started at least."

"Iris." She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. Her friend looked up at her, wide-eyed. "Stop beating around the bush. What happened? And how in the world could you be so happy about him if it's something you did? It must've been one hell of a-" She stopped, a possibility dawning on her. "Sex."

"What?" Iris asked, more from shock that she'd guessed it than that it was what had her so particularly cheerful.

"You guys had morning sex." She leaned back and folded her arms against herself. "Must've been pretty fantastic if you're still on cloud nine at…" She lifted her wrist to check her watch. "Three pm."

Iris shrugged innocently. "It was definitely good."

Linda laughed. "Something tells me it was more than just 'good'." She slipped her hand into her pocket to retrieve a small piece of paper and tossed it onto Iris' desk.

"What's this?"

"Postal worker handed it to me when I was coming back from lunch. I forgot about it until now. She said it's for you."

"Oh. Thanks."

She started to lean over to see what it might say, but just as Iris was opening it she closed it. She raised an eyebrow at her friend instead.

"I'm entitled to some privacy, aren't I?"

Linda rolled her eyes and hopped off her desk.

"Fine, fine. But if it's juicy, I want to know."

Iris laughed, but it was strained. Surprisingly, Linda didn't notice it.

"No promises," she called back as her friend returned to her own desk and resumed her assignments for the day.

Once Linda was fully focused on her own work, Iris flipped open the note and read it again – over and over to be sure she wasn't reading into it too much.

She suspected that unfortunately she wasn't and swallowed hard. She opened the document she'd been secretly working in for months that was flooded with pictures, some including the signature that had an uncanny similarity to the penmanship in the note she held in her hands.

 _Stop digging. Your husband has such a pretty face._

She folded the note away and stuck it into her pocket, a nasty chill reverberating over her entire body, a single whisper slipping passed her suddenly very dry lips.

"Amunet."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** In this chapter, the elements/dialogue from the insta story are starting to be incorporated. The main SL is coming into view.

I hope you all enjoy! 3

 ***** Many thanks to **sendtherain** for beta'ing and **theflashaus** for reading through it and guaranteeing me it's a win!

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Chapter 3 -**

She really hated lying to her husband.

 _You're not lying, Iris. You're just withholding the truth._

She mentally scolded herself for the repeated pathetic justification. It was their wedding anniversary today. Of all times to keep silent, this was not one of them.

 _He's the Flash. He can take care of himself._

And she knew that was true. Amunet didn't know Barry Allen was the Flash, scarlet speedster, savior of Central City for the past four years. Even if she did try to harm him, she was a drug dealer and he had super speed. How much damage could she really do?

She would tell him. She was his wife. There weren't supposed to be secrets between them, no matter the reason.

Just not today. First, she'd uncover what Amunet was up to, publish the story, get her arrested, and with her gone, there would be nobody to threaten her or her husband.

She'd just have to be more careful about how she went about doing it.

For starters, she was only going to be working on that particular story at home. And she wouldn't reach out to any outside sources. She wouldn't meet with anyone or even talk over the phone. At least until next week, she would keep mum about it.

At the very least, she would enjoy her wedding anniversary.

"Iris, can I talk to you about something?" Barry asked, sitting across from her on the couch.

She shook herself from her thoughts and looked over at him, softening the minute she saw the way he looked at her – the way he always looked at her when it was just the two of them. Like the world didn't spin unless she was in his orbit.

"Of course." She smiled.

"I just wanted to say the past year with you has been the best year of my life."

She withheld an 'aww' just barely.

"Nothing makes me happier than waking up next to you every morning."

Her smile widened, and she was sure there were stars in her eyes.

"Barry Allen…"

"I just love you so much."

Shivers rippled up and down her spine.

"I love you, too."

She leaned in for a kiss and felt the electricity spread through her body as it always did when they touched. Not Flash electricity – though maybe some of that was mixed in there – but that zap from the passion, the connection shared between them. What she wouldn't give to stay wrapped up in him all day like this. And only their lips were touching. And his hand on her knee that she could imagine creeping up slowly…

The kiss was over far too soon.

"Well, I better get to work."

He pushed himself to the edge of the couch to stand up, and she pouted.

"Mm, I don't want you to leave."

He turned to look at her.

"I'll be back before you know it, okay?" She opened her mouth, about to protest again when – "And maybe I'll even bring you home some of that white hot chocolate you love so much."

She bit her lip and grinned, snatching her empty coffee mug up and getting up as he headed for the door.

"Don't play games with me, Allen." She could already taste the velvety sweetness on her tongue.

Barry laughed in response. "Love you!"

"Love you, too!" she called after him playfully, wishing he'd at least blessed her with a –

But then he was back in the room, pressing his lips to her again, making it last longer than the previous one had, even slipping his tongue into her mouth till the dizzying feeling made her clutch at his arms for support.

When he pulled away, she was breathless. So was he, but less so, the speedster bastard.

"Wow," she breathed, taking a while to meet his eyes again because she knew he'd be smug as hell.

"Happy anniversary," he said, brushing his nose against hers and tightening his hands on her waist.

She groaned aloud. "Now I really don't want you to go," she complained.

He smiled against her. "I miss you already."

"We can at least do dinner tonight, yeah? Someplace fancy maybe?"

"You pick. I'll make the reservation during my lunch break."

She pulled her head back slightly and gave him a questioning stare.

"You'll get the reservation just a few hours before? What if it's a busy place that can't fit us in?"

He shrugged. "Then I'll do a pick-up order and we'll eat out on our roof."

She felt chills again. God, her man was _such_ a romantic.

"Sounds perfect."

Beaming, she pulled him down for another kiss, then another and another, triumphantly cheering inside when he shuddered.

"I really have to go, Iris…"

"But I want you to stay," she pushed, standing up on her tip toes and pulling him closer, winding her fingers through his hair and then dipping them under his shirt collar.

"Iriiiis," his voice vibrated briefly, and she finally pulled away, laughing.

"Alright, alright, I get it." She bit her bottom lip. "I can't make you late again."

He shook his head at her. "There's nothing I'd want more," he assured, then kissed her nose. "But maybe you can keep me up late instead."

He winked at her and started to walk away again.

"Bye, Iris."

"I'll see you later," she cooed, swaying where she stood. She could see the struggle in him not to run back to her, and she loved it.

"With roses and a five-course meal," he assured.

She laughed. "Bye, Barry."

She shook her head and resumed refilling her coffee mug. By the time she'd turned back around, he was gone.

Her phone buzzed on the table though, and her heart swelled when she read the text from her husband.

 **Love you more than anything.**

 **Happy Anniversary. 3**

She sighed contently and responded with her own romantic message.

Nothing – nothing – was more important than keeping her husband safe. She could cut back on her research for a little longer. If the time came when telling Barry was a necessity, she would confide in him. Hopefully he wouldn't hate her too much for keeping it from him. The story was too important, but so was he; and God, she didn't want mornings like this one to disappear.

…

A stash of mini bottles filled with blue liquid cluttered Amunet's desk. She was gleeful at the sight, a joyful spirit in her rising to unforeseen levels. The top drug she'd been dealing for months was started to lose its appeal, and she knew she had to up her game. She had to introduce a new drug that would take euphoria higher than it had ever gone. It had to expand her empire with drug addicts and drug dealers alike. And she had to get the supply before the demand came calling at her doorstep.

Luckily for her, she'd managed to find a buyer that would guarantee her a bulk of the stuff, enough to last six months if it was a hit – and longer than that if it took a while to catch on. She assumed the former. In her private quarters she'd tested the drug out on a couple hookers, one of her henchmen, and yes, even herself. The results had been delightful.

To celebrate her victory and squash down the curiosity of just who had left the drug on her desk without being noticed – along with contact information of where to get more, Amunet declared a party that night. Under a disguised name, she'd send one of her employees out to buy the popular night club in the wee hours of the next morning. And there just a drop of the drug would be inserted into every drink.

Guards would be standing by naturally should the drug result in chaos, but she was pretty sure it wouldn't. Tonight would be a raving success, keeping her on a high for at least the next couple days.

There was only one more piece of news she needed to truly be satisfied with the course the week had taken. She was pretty sure she knew what her next step would be regardless, but it would delight her to know if the pesky little reporter had in fact heeded her warning or not.

Right on schedule – 3pm, as she'd ordered – a petite red head with a fitted leather vest hardly covering a lacy black bra beneath coupled with cargo pants and combat boots – she wouldn't judge – walked through the doorway, completely ignoring the bulky Edgar when he tried to block her.

Amunet liked her, as her mischievous smile indicated. She was quick on her feet and convincingly sweet when she needed to be, the polar opposite to her real personality. She wasn't a drug addict, only spending one night a week inhaling when Amunet had to offer. Which was fine with her. Henchmen were no use if they weren't sober when their duties needed to be carried out.

"Penny," she said brightly. "I've been waiting for you."

The redhead didn't even deign to look at the bulky watch managing to sit tightly on her thin wrist. She didn't say a word either, just waited.

"What news do you have for me?" she asked, unbothered by her sullen demeanor. "Did Mrs. Iris West-Allen get the note?"

"She did."

 _Which I told you two days ago_ , Amunet assumed she wanted to add. She was smart enough not to.

"And has she relented?" she asked, glancing down at her pretty fingernails.

Penny folded her arms against her this frame.

"For the most part."

Amunet stilled, then looked up at her, a glare in her eyes, though she knew it wasn't the girl's fault. She delivered the message, and she was valuable.

"What do you mean by that, dearie?" she asked, instead of rising out of her chair in her rage.

Penny shrugged, unbothered.

"She hasn't dug any deeper at work. She's not interviewing people, she's not doing internet searches…to anyone paying attention, she's dropped the story; and you, it would seem."

"But?"

"But, she hasn't been at work the last couple days. She's been working from home. I bugged her work computer, not her home laptop."

Amunet fumed, her hand tightening into a fist briefly.

"Would you like me to bug her home laptop?" Penny offered lazily.

Amunet considered that possibility for a second and then discarded it.

"No. No, that won't be necessary. We must assume she's still looking into it, which means she ignored my threat and is willing to risk her husband's pretty face."

She looked up at Penny, her rage gone as if it had never been there.

"Thank you, Penny. You've done well."

She nodded once.

"I trust I'll see you at the party tonight?"

Penny's lips parted, and Amunet could see the genuine conflict in her otherwise stoic gaze. Penny took drugs once a week. She was rigid about that schedule. It was how she was able to keep herself from becoming another druggie just like all the addicts who purchased from the underground drug dealers. She was proud of that accomplishment. The last thing she wanted to do was lose control in an uncontrolled environment. Amunet suspected that was because she had once been an addict and kept from falling back into it by giving herself a taste of it weekly – no more, no less. There were only rumors about that though, and she didn't feel like pushing.

"Of course," she said, as Amunet knew she would.

After all, she was her employer, and her presence was not a request.

"Good." She waved her toward the door. "Oh, and Penny?"

Penny stopped and turned towards her.

"You don't have to drink."

Penny's lips were a thin line.

"But if you do…there will be guards to maintain the excitement in the club." Her eyes lit up, dazzling at the prospect of what was to come.

Penny said nothing.

"You may go."

The younger girl nodded and left without so much as a backward glance. When she was gone, Amunet pulled out her cell phone and selected a name from her contacts she knew would suit her perfectly.

She smiled brightly when he answered, his voice gruff but clearly obedient, as he always was.

"Felix, darling, are you free tonight? I have a job for you." She waited for him to respond. "No, no, it won't take long at all. In fact, I think you'll enjoy yourself." Again, she waited. "Fabulous, fabulous. Come by my place in a few hours. I'll give you exactly what you need."

Click.

Smiling brightly, she set her phone down and propped her chin in her open palm.

"Oh, Edgar?"

He grunted, coming into view.

"Are you excited for the party tonight?"

He groaned and went back into the hall.

"I am too," she giggled. "Absolutely delighted."

…

Iris bit her bottom lip, staring at the document flooded with information in front of her. She'd told herself she wouldn't dig any deeper. She'd sworn she wouldn't. But a couple weeks back she'd offhandedly mentioned to Linda that she was looking into the latest trends in the underground black market, specifically drugs, and ever since then her co-worker had shot her any story, any source, that even hinted at the topic.

She'd sent her two more just today.

Iris didn't pursue them. She didn't dig, just as she'd promised herself she wouldn't. At least not until next week.

But there was no harm looking into something that was already on her computer, right?

That was the justification she used at least when she opened the files and analyzed their content. It was what she used to insist she was doing the right thing she made her own notes and compared them with past sources she had found. This woman – Amunet – was not just running this drug empire. She was selling toxic drugs that could result in death even before the euphoria of the drug took full effect. Countless death piled up, all by some unknown drug, and all set up to look like no one was involved except that addict who had taken them.

Iris knew better, though. There had to be a system. Any empire took precautions to maintain its stability. She doubted Amunet Black was stupid enough not to, especially if she'd found out about her digging around and actually threatened her at work.

Afraid that somehow she was being watched at work, she'd requested to work from home for the rest of the week. What she should really have done was alert her boss or the authorities even. But they'd probably tell her to leave well enough alone and hope whoever was involved would commit a crime later down the line. Maybe the feds would put Amunet on Watch Alert.

That hardly made Iris feel better though. If anything, it only convinced her more to keep going until she found some hard evidence incriminating enough to put her away for good. She realized of course that just by putting the head of the operation away didn't mean the whole empire would come crashing down, but it was certainly a start. Iris was certain she could be the one to get the ball rolling at the very least. And once she had, she would tell Barry. He would likely berate her, but inevitably he'd be glad she came out of it alive and be extremely overprotective over her for a while. Which she had no problem dealing with. Overprotective Barry Allen was adorable if slightly annoying. She could distinguish the latter side effect with kisses and cuddles, which was exactly what she planned to do.

That was at Point B though – or maybe Point C, after Amunet was put away. She was still firmly at Point A and seemingly stuck on how to reach the next one. More than anything, she needed to know Barry would be safe. Had she already dug too deep? Was Amunet just waiting in the shadows to catch Barry unaware and torture him?

The thought made her heart skip a beat – and not in a good way. It made her feel sick to her stomach.

And she knew – she knew – her husband was the Flash, and he could probably escape whatever Amunet tried to do to him before she even blinked.

But nobody is on guard all the time. At some point he would slip up and then –

Her bottom lip trembled. She glanced outside, saw it was dark, and decided to call him. Under normal circumstances she would assume he was just getting home late because of a case or maybe – since it was their anniversary – he was picking up the food she'd asked for because maybe the restaurant was too packed after all.

But with that note engrained in her memory, she needed to hear his voice again – needed it. Her heart would not stop racing until she did.

"Barry, answer the phone…" she whispered as she listened to the endless rings that greeted her when she called him.

Maybe she should tell him about the note now. It wasn't good to keep this all to herself. Her husband wasn't good under pressure, but once given a chance to breathe he might actually have a good suggestion that wouldn't get them both killed.

And she was getting in deep. Really deep. The second article Linda had sent her suggested another series of mysterious deaths. The strange part was their symptoms didn't align with the previous drug overdoses, and there weren't much of the unknown drug in their system. And in most of these cases, the victims weren't addicts – as far as anyone around them knew, of course.

So, first time drug users that didn't overdose and were dead by the end of the night.

Barry wasn't just the Flash. He was also a top-rate forensic scientist. He could help her figure out what exactly was going on, just as soon as she got him to calm down that she'd been keeping it from him.

But first she needed to hear his voice.

The sound of a knock on the door startled her. She dropped her phone, terrified, but then realized it had to be Barry. He had obviously been close to home and so decided he wouldn't answer her call because he'd be in the house imminently.

"Door is unlocked, Barry!" she called out, returning to her computer and taking a slow deep breath.

But it wasn't Barry's voice she heard after the door opened and the person who had been behind it walked inside.

"Good to know."

Iris froze, swallowing hard as she cautiously dared to look up at the man now inside her house.

"Excuse me?" She took on an offensive demeanor as she sprung to her feet. "Who in the hell are you?"

 _Don't show him you're scared, Iris. You're not scared. You're Iris West-freaking-Allen, and you are not scared of this guy_.

Smug, the guy walked further into the room.

"I was sent here by a woman named Amunet. Ring any bells?"

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. So much for her being scared over nothing.

"Get out of my house," she demanded, wishing she had some sort of object nearby she could threaten him with.

She had a gun upstairs in the bedroom and knives in the kitchen, but there was no way to reach them before he got to her first.

"I'll take that as a yes." He took another step towards her.

Her courage started to crumble.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her eyes fierce but her voice small.

He was unmoved by her range of emotion or how quickly her fire had evaporated with his proximity to her.

"No hard feelings, Iris, but I get paid to do this." He paused mid-step, reaching for her. "It'll only hurt a little."

She gasped, and suddenly her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. She stepped out of range at the last second and ran out the front door as fast as her little legs could carry her, calling Barry madly the whole time.

"Damn it, Barry, pick up!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** : Almost all of this chap is straight from the instragram story. Enjoy.

 ***** Many thanks to **sendtherain** for beta'ing this and **theflashaus** for looking it over. :)

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Chapter 4 -**

The fleeting thought of _I should do this quietly_ passed through the back of her mind, but it was just that – fleeting. The pounding of her heart drowned out the sound of her feet hitting every step on the ever-winding stairwell. She didn't know if the man Amunet had sent was on her tail or not. He could be one floor above her, right behind her, or waiting just outside the door on the main floor, barring her exit and any hope she had of escaping the very real danger she had just come face-to-face with.

If only Barry was with her. He could whisk her away someplace this man wouldn't find her – where Amunet wouldn't find her. She could write her story in secret, and the evil mastermind wouldn't know what hit her until it was too late. But none of that was possible now because Barry hadn't answered his phone when she was running down the hall, and she had to concentrate on not falling down the stairs, and the all-consuming thought was what to do and where to go if by some miracle this guy didn't stop her before she found a safe haven elsewhere.

She held her breath when she abruptly made it to the first floor. Running faster than her body could keep up with, she nearly fell face first against the door. Her hands flattened against the hard metal, and she waited a few beats till she could catch her breath. She strained to hear anything around her – footsteps in the stairwell above her, movement in the lobby just on the other side of the door she stood braced behind, anything at all that would be suspicious. To add to that, anything that might prove to be her saving grace.

But she heard nothing, and she knew she couldn't stay put for much longer. Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned the knob on the door and walked around it into the dimly lit room on the other side. It wasn't that late, but it was late enough for there not to be activity, for the room not to be lit up.

Iris scanned the room. There wasn't a single person in sight. There was, however, a door in the corner with large red letters above it – EXIT. It wouldn't set off the fire alarm thankfully, but it would get her out into the street in someplace a little less obvious than the front door. That would give her enough time to try to call Barry again, and maybe this time she'd be successful.

Quietly, she dashed across the large lobby and slipped passed the exit door. Moments later, she was in the alleyway between buildings, chilled for more than one reason, but she decided not to think about that. Instead she pulled out her phone and immediately called Barry again. A mugger was nothing compared to the assassin that had showed up at her door tonight.

One, two, three rings, but Barry Allen was not picking up.

"Come on, Barry! Answer the phone!" she muttered under her breath urgently, aware of the cold sweat dripping down the back of her neck.

The sharp fear tearing at her insides immediately intensified when her trembling fingers and the endless rings blaring into her ear was interrupted by the sound of slow clapping in the distance coming nearer by the second. She would've been a fool to not guess who those hands belonged to.

"I give you credit for making an attempt to run away," the would-be assassin said smoothly. Despite being frozen in her fear, Iris managed to look up at him. "But no one gets away from me, Iris."

She swallowed hard, forcing herself not to look away.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, abandoning any hope of getting away or any rescue from her impossible-to-reach husband.

The cheeky smile on his face subsided, the glint in his eyes gone. They were cold instead, solemn, dead. If she wasn't scared before, she certainly was now.

"If I told you, you wouldn't remember."

Iris thought she heard something go off, a weapon maybe, but she didn't see anything. She thought maybe she felt a prick on her skin, but it was so soft and brief that she hardly remembered it had occurred. All that registered to her was the man's eyes; dark, deep, unending, and unable to look away from. She couldn't hear herself breathing or feel her heart beating, and only barely was she aware of the slight tingling in her fingertips.

Then, without warning, a flash of images, memories, raced through her mind.

A warm, spring day, walking beside her charming then-best friend. She felt happy, in love, eager for the words about to spill out of his mouth as he nearly stumbled over his feet while they walked because he was looking at her and not what was right in front of him.

"Iris West, would like to go to dinner with me?"

He was so smooth, she'd thought, but before she saw herself accept his invitation, another memory flashed before her eyes. The night of the date she'd said yes to.

"You look beautiful," Barry Allen said, marveling at her as she met him on the street.

She remembered that night. She was so starstruck that they were finally on their first date, and he was looking so good, that she belatedly registered the compliment – that first one and every following one throughout the duration of the night.

Again, before she gushed her response, her mind fast-forwarded to another moment; her boyfriend down on one knee, a dazzling diamond ring held between two fingers as he gazed intensely up at her, all his love for her shining brilliantly in his eyes.

"Will you marry me?"

Her breath caught in her throat, but the memory was gone once again. Instead of going forward though, this time her memory went back, waaay back, back to elementary school when Barry had been pushed back against lockers in the hallway by a bully who was gone before Iris could harass him. Angry, bitter, and frustrated, Barry held tightly to the arm the bully had yanked him around with, making her worry that his shoulder might pop out.

But in that moment, with Iris crouched beside him, it wasn't spite at the bully that tumbled from his mouth, but instead self-recriminations for how she shouldn't want to associate with him because he was a kid that was bullied and who probably deserved it.

Horrified, she crowded closer.

"You're my best friend, Barry."

His lips parted and moved, but in Iris' present hazy mind, she couldn't hear what he was saying. In fact, she could no longer hear anything. A million images passed before her eyes, none of them making sense, but she knew they were familiar. She knew they were memories, but there were too many coming too fast. They overwhelmed her.

And then abruptly, they stopped, and the world faded to black.

…

Frustrated by his complete lack of romantic timing, Barry took a deep breath after he stepped out of the elevator and told himself to calm down. So, the restaurant had been too busy to fulfill the order he and Iris wanted. The flower shop Iris always seemed to get lost in shockingly closed up shop even before lunch that day due to lack of business – a likely story, Barry had sneered inwardly – and so he couldn't even send a bouquet home to her on their anniversary. And to top it all off, Jitters had been running short on supplies and he'd had to run out of town, almost out of state to get the white hot chocolate he'd promised her.

Talk about a crummy anniversary. Even if she didn't hate him for all those reasons, she would at the very least be sad he hadn't managed to come home a little earlier. He would beat himself up for this for the next three-hundred-and-sixty-four days.

Unable to face the façade of being okay once he delivered the news, Barry turned off his phone. He would claim it died when he arrived home and offer her favorite drink and plenty of kisses in the hopes that it would mend all wounds.

Still, his hands were shaking a little as he pulled the house key out of his pocket and opened the door to their loft. He walked in, looked around the living room and kitchen for his wife only to come up empty. The light was still on, but the computer she'd been sitting with at the table was missing.

Which would only be odd if she'd taken it upstairs with her – if she'd gone to bed early.

His heart fell into the pit of stomach. She was mad. Furious. He'd failed so miserably on their first anniversary that she'd actually gone to bed before eight o'clock because she'd lost faith that he'd come home at all.

He wondered if she'd called and feared a hundred messages.

He pulled out his phone, turned it on, and casually called out. "Iris?"

Let her think nothing was wrong. Maybe she'd pretend there wasn't, and he could – Stoppp. He shook himself of the ramped exaggerated thoughts that were doing more harm than good. But when he saw how many times Iris had called him, they resurfaced immediately.

He took a few more steps into the room.

"Iris, I'm home! Sorry I'm late…" No sound. "I brought you that white hot chocolate though to make it up-"

He stilled. Far enough into the living room to examine the place before heading up to their bedroom, Barry felt chills race down his spine. Something's not right.

Pillows were tossed around the room, a table was flipped over, and magazines were strewn across the floor. Horrified, he started to step back then heard a crack and realized he'd stepped onto a shattered picture frame on the floor. Looking around once more, he saw several porcelain plates in pieces on the kitchen floor.

"Iris!" he called out again, this time panicked for an entirely different reason. When she didn't respond, he raced up the stairs, searching all the rooms and coming up empty to all of them. "Where are you?!"

Running his hands through his hair, his heart jumping out of his chest, his breathing quickening, Barry wasted no more time in their lavish apartment. He sped out into the city, searching every street, every building, every one of their usual spots and all the unusual ones he could think of too. He stopped every so often to call her name in some blind hope that she'd respond, but nothing resembling her voice called back to him.

He had nearly given up when he returned to their building near the back and spotted a body on the ground that looked familiar. It could be anyone with a similar physical description. But he knew it wasn't anyone. It was Iris.

He raced to her unconscious body and took her in his arms.

"Iris, oh my God…" He leaned down, could hear and see her faint breathing. She was alive. "Stay with me, Iris. Stay with me…"

Common sense kicked in moments later, and he gathered her into his arms. Taking a deep breath and searching his mind for the nearest emergency facility, he raced to Central City Hospital and power-walked to the reception desk.

The young receptionist's jaw dropped. He prayed to God she wasn't new.

"Oh my God, what-what happened?" She rose from her seat.

"It's my wife. I came home, and she was gone, and the place was a mess, and I found her in the alley behind our apartment, and could you just please-"

An older woman burst through the emergency doors and rushed over when she saw the new arrivals and the clearly shell-shocked young woman failing to come up with the proper answer to give him – or any answer at all.

She barked at a nearby attendee to bring over a gurney and proceeded to ask Barry questions about Iris' conditions. He spewed out everything he just had, though he didn't hear himself do it. All he could do was stare down at his wife, barely keeping his tears at bay.

 _Why won't she wake up?_

After some time, he heard the nurse say "okay" and tell him to wait, but he wouldn't budge. He wouldn't leave her side. Without a word the nurse left. A few short minutes later, a doctor appeared beside him.

"Mr. Allen, she's in good care now. You can wait in the-"

"Is she going to be okay?" Barry interrupted, looking away from Iris for no more than a second. When the doctor failed to answer him right away, he turned his attention back to Iris and was relieved to find her opening her eyes.

 _Iris? Oh, thank God!_

"It's okay now," he told her, gently squeezing her hand. "I found you, and you're okay. We're in the hospital." He paused and managed a short chuckle. "You really scared me there?"

Iris looked up at him, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"Who are you?" she rasped.

She just woke up, he tried to tell himself. Don't jump to conclusions.

The doctor gently pulled the gurney away from Barry to take Iris further into the hospital. He was too shocked to make much of a move to protest again at first until she was almost gone. Then he held onto the side handles, halting it immediately.

The doctor looked up at him, patiently willing him to release his grip.

"Mr. Allen, please, we have things under control."

Reluctantly, Barry let go, let them take his Iris away to find out what was wrong with her.

Just before they had completely disappeared, the doctor stopped again and looked back at him.

"Mr. Allen… She's in good hands. We'll keep you updated on what's going on." He paused. "You can trust us."

Barry knew if he really wanted to, he could speed passed him and stay with Iris, make sure she was safe, be there when she was okay again – because _she was going to be okay again_. She was just confused now in unfamiliar surroundings after God knows what had happened to her, but she would be okay eventually. And he could be there when she was.

Unfortunately, the sound of someone else calling his name distracted him; it was the young receptionist. He didn't know how she possibly thought she could be useful now when she hadn't been before, but he forced himself not to lash out.

"Is there someone I can call?" she asked.

"What?" he rasped, the idea a foreign concept to him.

"Anyone I can call," she repeated, "that can be with you in this time."

The phrasing annoyed him, but the intention was good, and the proposition was a smart one. He took a slow, deep breath and nodded, joining her back at the reception desk. He tried not to berate himself too harshly when he realized he'd left his phone at home before taking to the city to search for Iris.

"Yeah," he said. "My wife's father. Joe West."


End file.
